


A Titanic Tale

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Crack, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-01-01
Updated: 1998-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not exactly the Titanic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Titanic Tale

**Author's Note:**

> My response to the "Titanic" Challenge. I should be ashamed of myself.

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Well, it wasn't *dark*, exactly, not to a man with Sentinel sight. Nor was it particularity stormy, more like breezy, in fact. Actually, there was a full moon out on a crystal clear night, but you get the idea. James Ellison, manly man and big game hunter, stood at the rail on the aft deck. "I wonder if they'd let me shoot something," he thought. "I'm getting rather bored."

Then he caught sight of a young man with long, curly hair working on a sketch book three floors below. "Hel-lo sailor," he thought. He stood and straightened out his clothing and wind-blown hair -- what there was of it. Then he vaulted over the safety gate and down the steps to the lower desks. Sex was better than killing things any day.

Well, almost anyday.

* * *

Blair was working on another treatise on African art when his elbow was accidentally jostled by a fellow passenger. The pen slid across the page, the ink smearing over everything including his shirt-sleeves, obliterating most of his work. With a snarl, he looked up -- and saw the most amazing blue eyes looking down at him. "Cerulean?" he thought. Cornflower? What the heck color was that?

The man cleared his throat.

"Sure." Blair put his sketch book and pens away with a snap. "My cabin's closer."

* * *

A triple-gainer with a half-twist later, they had managed to shed all of their clothes,only knocking over one piece of inadequately-secured furniture in the process. They rutted in the lower bunk like pigs in a truffle-bed, moans, groans and slapping wet sounds drowning out the lapping noise of the sea.

Oh,YESsssss.

* * *

At the precise moment of orgasm, the hull of the Titanic was ripped open by an ice berg, the inferior grade steel shattering in the glacial waters. Of course, the two men wrapped in the throws of their afterglow never noticed; they both thought the vibration was because the sex was so great. Compassionate, caring men that they were, they instantly dropped off to sleep.

They died together, arms wrapped around each other. "Was that a great fuck or what?" the last, lingering thought on each of their minds.


End file.
